Era A Marauder's fanfic
by ImagineHarryPotter
Summary: The story of the Marauders: how they met, what happened to them during Hogwarts, and how they formed.
1. Chapter 1

The feeling in his legs have been gone for a while now, but James didn't move. His gaze is fixed on the far end of the hill, where the owls always came, until today. His hands clench. The letter has to come, it just has to, no questions asked.

He doesn't even move when the front door of the house creaks open and slams with a snap. Footsteps follow it, soft, his mother's. She sits down beside him, leaning back against the railing. "James," she says, it is almost a question. James's neck is almost too stiff to move, but he looks at his mother. She is a frail woman with blond-grey hair that reached just below her shoulders. Dark rings found a home under her eyes that she doesn't even try to cover up and her mouth is thin and chapped. Her hands fold and unfold in her lap, as they do when she's worried.

"James," she says again, and this time James looks away. "The letter will never get here if you keep on waiting for it."

"What if it doesn't come? What if I'm a Squib?" His voice broke a little.

His mother almost laughed, "I've seen what you can do," she smiles broadly, "You're not a Squib. Remember that one time you 'accidentally' found yourself on the roof? Or that one time you jumped into the deep end of the pool and found yourself breathing underwater?" She is laughing by then, patting her son's shoulder.

"When will it come then?"

"Later," she says, "Now, c'mon, I made lunch."

James follows her in after a minute, lifting his sleeping legs slowly. The front door shut with a bang.

James - despite his mother's protests - spent the rest of the day glancing out of the window, but even as the day turned gold and pink and finally dark blue, no owl found its way across the hill. And finally, James lost all hope.

"I'm going to bed," he says in a voice that is not breaking but already broken. His chest feels hallow and his eyes heavy. He dreams of Hogwarts as he walked up the stairs. He thinks of his new friends as he goes down the long hallway.

He wishes of looking into the Great Hall for the first time as he crosses the room to open his window. He wonders what it would feel like to be one of them as the wind hits his face and stings his eyes and that's when he breaks down.

Turning away from the window, James falls against his bed and covers himself in the sheets without changing his clothes or taking off his shoes.

Hogwarts was going to be his one chance. James has no siblings and is home schooled. His only friend was a dog named Snitch, who is now barking at something out back. The barking, loud and harsh, doesn't stop for another ten minutes - it is the one thing keeping James from falling asleep.

With his face hot and his body shaking, he flipped the covers off and got out of bed. He cranes his head out of the window and narrows his eyes against the dark to find the dog. Snitch is growling at the sky, at nothing.

"Dumb dog," James says to himself but doesn't mean it. He shakes his head and looks to the sky and that's when he sees it: a dark shape against the trees, wings flapping in the wind. James's heart pounds and his face lights up. His stomach leaps into his throat and his eyes don't dare move away from the owl.

The owl, tawny with white flecks, swoops into the room and lands on the end of his bed, looking bored. James has to stop himself from ripping the letter right off the owl's leg and sticks to gently pulling it off. Once the letter is free, the owl takes off once again, almost hitting James in the face with his wing.

"Mom! Mom!" James shouts between a smile. "It came! It came!"


	2. Chapter 2

James has been lying in his bed for a few hours, waiting for the sky outside of his window to turn pink and then gold, just early enough to call it morning. His fingers twist and untwist on his stomach and his head is propped on his pillow. He feels light, it is the only way he can describe it, like nothing can ever ruin his day.

When the sun reaches the peak of the hill, he finds it time to get up, though it is still dark. His hand reaches over the sheets to the nightstand, his fingers glide over the wood, tapping books and a lamp until he finds his glasses. Putting them on, the room turns into focus.

He pulls on an old T-shirt and jeans before opening the bedroom door and enters the hallway. He blinks into the glaring lights and blindly steps into the kitchen. He stops in the archway when he sees a tall, lean figure leaning against the counter wearing work clothes, his father. James's father isn't around much. He leaves early in the morning and comes home late at night and was only off on Sundays (sometimes). He had a shock of white hair that was cut close to his head, unlike James's which went off in all directions, and a friendly face.

His father nods at him over a cup of coffee. "Morning," he says after a gulp and setting the cup down with an audible crack. His father smiles, when he does the smile-lines around his eyes crinkle. "Why are you up so early?"

"Mum and I are going to Diagon Alley," he says after a moment, reluctant to move. Although, James loves his father, he has a hard time talking to him.

His father smile widens, the kind of smile that makes everyone around him smile to - which is exactly what James does. "Yes, I heard you got your letter last night. How exciting. I wish I could go back to Hogwarts," he says, "You think they would let me back in?"

James lifts himself on top of the counter. He pretends to look his father over, who poses for effect. "Maaabyyyye… Do a circle for me," James says, "Maybe if we get you a wig - a nice cloak - you'll fit right in."

His father turns to his side, pats his stomach, and frowns, "Won't I be a tad too big though?"

"Growth spurt?"

"Perfect plan, son!" His father laughs. "Anyway, I have to go to work. See if you can enroll me later today, okay." And then his father was gone. The last thing James saw of him was his smile.

It will be a few hours until his mother wakes up and James is too excited to eat. He just wanted to run around; his whole body tingled. Despite this feeling, he can't wrap his head around that he's going to Hogwarts. He's been repeating in his head for the last eight hours, _"I'm going to Hogwarts. I'm going to Hogwarts." _But he isn't going to go to Hogwarts if his mom doesn't wake up.

He narrows his eyes at the closed door of his parent's bedroom, willing his mother to wake up.

When that doesn't work, he finds himself in the living room, his head against a pillow and his eyes on the closed door.

It is another hour until his mother is ready to go. By then, James is about to jump off the walls. He tries to stay steady by sitting on his hands as his mother makes herself breakfast in the kitchen. She says she'll eat it at Diagon Alley.

She then sits down beside him and holds him arm, just below the elbow. "Ready?" She asks. The answer is always no. Both of James's parents loves apparating, but James would rather walk. His mouth twists in discomfort. "Don't give me that look," his mother snaps and they're off.

Instantly, James feels like he is being sucked into a small tube, his head throbs, and no one can hear him screaming - or maybe they can, he just doesn't care.

When they stop, James's legs give out and he has to stop himself from falling. His vision is blurry and his glasses are thrown across the stone, his mother holds them out for him. His throat is closed and he is glad he didn't eat breakfast.

James had only been to Diagon Alley once before and he was too young to remember much of it. He grins just for its beauty, its wonder. It is hard to see around the crowd of witches and wizards but James can see enough. They are standing in front of a store covered in books. The building is built in crumbling bricks, like it has been there forever. The books in the window read _A History of Magic. _

James's eyes can't keep still. He has to see everything. He follows behind his mom, his gaze moving every second. He just wants to take it all in. James knows about magic, but this is beyond it. It is wonderful, in every sense of the word.

A group of boys James's age run past him, laughing at something as they stop in front of a store and press their noses to the class. James tries to see what they're looking at, but is being pulled along by his mother.

They stop in front of a narrow and dirty shop with no indication that it is being used except for the gold lettering on the top of the door: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

His mother turns him around, "I'm going to go get you a cauldron. Get your wand and I'll catch up with you later." She pats him on the head, but it feels more like a pet, and waves to him and she is swallowed by the crowd.

James slowly turns toward the door, suddenly reluctant of entering. If his mother was here, he could've hid behind her. Sure he wants a wand, but everyone has told him that finding a wand is hard business. Once, the Prewett twins told him that they had to take blood, a piece of skin from the bottom of your foot, and you had to take a test. James can live with the rest - but a test! That is evil by all standards. But he tries to forget it and opens the door after a quick breath.

A bell chirps somewhere in the back when he walks in. The walls are covered in slender boxes of many different colors. Moats of dust glitter in the air under the few bare light bulbs above his head, just enough to make him cough.

There is no one else there except for two other kids James's age - a girl and a boy. James can just hear the last bit of their conversation: "He'll be back in a moment with your wand, Lily," the boy says.


	3. Chapter 3

The girl, Lily, has red hair, a color you only see in the autumn when the leaves fall off the trees and bright green eyes. In fact, everything about her is bright - her eyes, her skin, her smile - which is directed to the boy beside her. The boy's coloring is a such drastic change from Lily, you'd wonder why they are friends. He wears all black, the same color as his eyes and hair.

James doesn't realize he is staring at the couple until Lily turns around to look at him. "Do you need some help?" She asks, trying to be polite.

Mesmerized, James says without thinking, "Will you marry me?"

Lily holds back a snort and covers her mouth with her hand, the boy doesn't even try, his laughs echo in the shop. "No," the girl says when she uncovers her mouth, which is twisted in disgust. James would have shown grief if an old man with more wrinkles than face steps out from the shadows.

"My, my," he says in a soft voice, like a whisper. "Let's try this one, shall we." In his hand he holds a slender blue box, which is opened to reveal a crooked stick-looking wand. He holds it out in front of Lily. She takes it quickly, as if she is ready to end this.

It is more silent than James likes. There isn't a sound except for the scuffle of feet and hum of voices out of the window.

Lily, her mouth pursed, takes the wand high above her head and brings it down to her waist. A blue spark erupts from its end and shoots across the shop, bouncing across the boxes and ceiling. The old man almost laughs and a smile grows on James's face - as it does on Lily's as well.

"I believe this is it, don't you?" He continues without waiting for an answer. "This wand is ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. It's excellent for charm work. I hope you take care of this wand."

Lily hands the man the money and heads out, trying not to look at James. The boy though, is still holding in laughter. James already doesn't like him.

James watches them leave and doesn't move his gaze until the tinkling of the bell finishes.

"Good afternoon, I'm Mr. Ollivander," the soft voice says so closely that James jumps backwards, his heart hammering. Their noses almost touch, though the man doesn't appear to notice he did anything wrong. His wide eyes gleamed brightly, examining each part of James, who wishes he would blink.

"Strange, for a Potter, I'd thought you'd talk more," Ollivander says with a slight chuckle.

James takes a step back. "Erm… Hello," he says awkwardly. "How did you know my last name was Potter?"

This time, Ollivander does laugh. "You look just like your father when he was your age. I remember the day he came in here like it was yesterday. His wand I made especially for him, no wand would take him you see, so I had to make one that did - a hard customer he was. 12 inches, made of holly, unicorn hair. I was quite proud of myself."

James stutters on what to say, but nothing comes out. He just stares blankly into those large, silver eyes.

"Now, now, shall we get started. Now, would you please hold out your right arm?" Ollivander asks with one hand in his shirt pocket and the other in his coat. It takes him a moment, and a few pockets, to find a silver tape measure.

James, a bit lost, pulls out his right arm. Ollivander measures shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, and shoulder to the floor, but he doesn't stop yet. He moves on to the knee to the armpit and around his head.

Once he is finished, he turns to place the tape measure on a thin, child's chair by the door. "Do you remember every wand you sell?" James asks when his back is turned.

Ollivander turns sharply to face him, confusion and delight in his eyes. "You know, you are the first to ask me that in a long time? I love it when people are curious…" he pauses to walk across the shop and eyes a row of wands, James has no idea what he is doing, but Ollivander seems to know.

He continues as he blows the dust of one of the boxes that has a large rip down the middle. "Yes, I remember every wand I've ever made and every one I sell. When you make them a certain way, I believe there is no way you could ever forget them." He turns around on his heel, holding out the box to James. "Try this one, will you."

James, biting the inside of his lip, slowly takes the wand out of its box. It is hard and has jagged edges. It has a feeling attached to it that can only be described as wrong.

"What are you waiting for, give it a little flick."

James follows instructions, feeling a bit stupid waving a wand around like an idiot. What happens is so much unlike Lily's that James drops the wand completely as a green light explodes out of the wand and lands on to the floor, smelling like manure.

"My, my, just as I suspected." Ollivander plucks the wand away and puts it in a head in the corner.

James shakes his head, "What? If you knew it wouldn't work, why did you give it to me?"

Ollivander, in another part of the shop now says simply, "Why not?" This just frustrates James more. He buries his face in his palms.

There is an audible cheer from the back. James's eyebrows rise. Ollivander comes back clapping and with a wide smile. "I know this will work, here try it."

James reluctantly takes the wand. He still doesn't know whether to trust the old man or not. Who knows what happens to the mind when you're that old? But James takes the wand and shakes it several times.

He does this again and again… and again. Each time he tries out a new wand, the results grow worse and worse until they are nothing at all. However, Ollivander's smile grows.

"I love a tricky customer," he says as he holds another wand in front of James's face, which he hopes will be the last time. "This is one of my favorite combinations: 11 inches, mahogany, phoenix feather, prefect for transfiguration," there is another smile on Ollivander's lips - the same one James is getting very tired of.

James stares blankly as he takes the wand. He isn't sure what he is waiting for anymore. Obviously, he isn't going to get the same reaction as Lily did, why does he even try?

But something happens that makes James's eyebrows rise. There is a sudden warmth, like he just put his fingers over a fire. He lifts the wand just above his head and gives it a little twirl. A burst of red and orange cuts through the dusty air like fireworks and creates popping sounds. He smiles, out of relief and amazement. Light bounces off the walls as Ollivander claps once again.

There is a rapping on the glass window, James turns and sees his mother whooping as best she can with the bags of James's school things. She comes rushing in, the rustle of the bags drowning out the bell.

"Yes, that was fantastic, James," she cries, clapping him on the back with her free hand. She hands Ollivander the Galleons and pushes James out of the door just quick enough for him to miss Olivander's bow.

Once out of the shop, James shivers. He liked the shop and all, it just gave off a strange feeling, which he didn't realize was there until they left.

"I've already got your robes for you, remember when I sized you last week?" His mother says, James doesn't hear her after that because of the hum of the streets and the pounding of his heart. He holds the wand close to his chest and studies it.

A wand, a real wand. This means all of this is going to happen. He is going to Hogwarts and isn't going to be home school. What a glorious day.


	4. Chapter 4

James's last month at home isn't the greatest. Each hour seems to last days and every day is a week. His father is working seven days a week now and his mother is going back to work too. During the day, he spends his time outside with the dog, Snitch. Snitch is a golden lab, who would rather stay in his dog house and sleep than do anything else, but James's likes him. In the mornings, he will walk in the kitchen, where he will see a note on the counter saying '_REMEMBER CLEAN UNDERWEAR!' _from his mother and after that he will leave with a shudder.

In no more than a few minutes, he will be climbing the hill with a broomstick in one hand. He walks through the woods behind the house, where he feels perfectly at home. The sun shines through the leaves above him, casting a halo around the trees as he jumps over roots and plants. He kicks a rock in between his feet, bouncing it against tree stops when he reaches the top of the hill, which looks over part of the town. Right below him is train tracks, the next time he will see them is tomorrow, when he will finally go to Hogwarts. His chest swells just think about it, his arms tingle.

He climbs on his broomstick and hovers in the air a few feet above the ground, his toes grazing the grass. Biting his lip, he tilts the broom high and lifts off the ground.

He only comes down when he sees his father walk down the steps of the house, his neck craning to see his son and his hands shielding his eyes, covering him in shadow. His free hand signals him to come down. Even from up there, James can see his smile. By then, James's hands are sore and have a hard time moving, but he manages to move to the ground gradually. His father won't approve of him hurtling toward the ground at break-neck speed - no matter how fun it is. He lands gentle - and boring by James's standards.

His father is about to walk inside the house after he sees James land. "You're mother is taking you to King's Cross at half past ten and you better write me every week," he says, holding the door ajar.

"And if I don't?" James's asks with a smile.

"I'll get an owl that bites. And remember, it's nine and three quarters - remember it, love it, eat it, swallow it," and the door snaps behind him.

James wakes up at five in the morning the next day and is ready to go fifteen minutes later. He couldn't fall asleep the night before from tossing and turning. His whole body is trembling with excitement and nerves. Every time he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, the shaking and lump in his throat just come right back. He can already feel himself learning all new spells and using them on the dog, not bad ones anyway.

In this time, he checks over the school list again - and again - to make sure he has everything and made sure he had everything organized.

A few hours later, he still isn't calm, but his father has left, but not before reminding him when to leave and asking again if he could come with him - maybe by sneaking inside of his trunk.

An hour later, his mother is ready to go, just leaving her bedroom. The first thing she says to him, with a glaring eye and pointed finger is, "You are wearing clean underwear, aren't you?"

James's back slumps. "No, I'm wearing a pair from six months ago," after seeing his mother's expression, he adds, "Oh, don't worry, I change it inside out every few weeks." He smiles, to show he's joking, but she doesn't look happy.

"Come on," his mother says in a monotone and reaches for his arm. She sounds bored, but James notices how glassy her eyes are. He always wondered how his parents feel about practically losing their kids at eleven when Muggles children leave their parents at eighteen.

And then the world is a blur - a twisting, horrible blur. James wants to curl in a fetal position as they apparate but he can't move. When they land, he stumbles forward as he thinks his entire insides while come up his throat. He clutches his stomach and doesn't move for another moment. During this, his mother gets a cart for James's trunk and wheels it along for him until his nausea is gone.

"Sorry," she says under her breath, "it's just so much easier to travel that way."

They stop in front of Platform nice and Platform ten. There is one thing James forgot to ask: how to get to Platform nine and three quarters. His mouth grows dry and he looks up at his mother, too embarrassed to answer but hoping she will tell him the answer anyway.

The people passing give them funny looks as they stand there, both of the Potter's looking expectantly at each other. James has enough when a little girl with pigtails points at him and asks her father if he had some sort of disease. He is about to ask when he hears a nasal voice, "Stupid Muggles, do they have any sense of sanitation?"

James turns around and sees the speaker, a tall woman who is still complaining to two other boys, all of whom have curly black hair. The oldest boy is falling behind, slumping over his cart. He and James lock eyes. James raises his eyebrows and the boy rolls his eyes and nods his head toward the woman.

"Sirius," the woman snaps when she stands in between the Platforms, "Go ahead." And the next thing the boy does shocks James. He backs his cart until he is facing the middle of the Platforms and breaks into a run, finally vanishing beyond the barrier.

James looks to his mother, "Go on," she says. Once, the woman and son go through, James follows their movements, feeling like an idiot. What if it only works for a certain kind of people? What if he crashes? Is this a test of how much magic he knows?

At first, he walks toward the barrier, then quickens his pace until he is running. Each second, he is convinced he is getting closer and closer to crashing. Nearer - nearer, until he closes his eyes… and nothing happens. He keeps running until he opens his eyes and sees a scarlet steam engine in front of him. A sign a few feet away reads: Hogwarts Express. He has done it.

Still hearing the family from just a moment before, he follows them, because he isn't sure what else to do. Looking behind him for a second before moving, he sees his mother watching him go through the crowd.


End file.
